Time to lose a little more of the black metal the Eld had dispersed so freely. When he reached Celieria City, he'd give the High Mage's get a little red Fey metal in return.

Vadim Maur's flowing purple robes whispered in the tomblike silence as he descended to the deepest level of Boura Fell. His hair, long and bone white, shone bright in the flickering lamplight of the dark corridor, a beacon for the two men and the leashed flame-haired woman, Elfeya, who walked silently behind him.

Three days had passed since he'd last called the Celierian girl. He'd found her, but she'd managed to rebuff him and lock her mind away from him. For the last three nights he hadn't even managed to locate her, let alone call her. The failure infuriated him.

Kolis's ensorcelled gift hadn't worked either. The cursed spell still hadn't even been activated! Vadim's plan to capture the girl during the Bride's Blessing was looking more promising by the day. Fortunately, he'd had already put those plans in motion. He wasn't a Mage who believed in leaving things to chance.

Victory came to those who planned for it.

And punishment-swift and severe-came to anyone who stood in his way.

At the end of the level's longest corridor, two burly men stood guard by a large sel'dor-plated door. They held barbed sel'dor spears in their meaty hands.

"Open it," the High Mage ordered.

One of the guards grabbed the key ring at his waist and unlocked the door, swinging it open and standing aside to allow the Mage and his followers to enter.

The room was dark. Vadim lifted a hand, and Fire ignited the sconces throughout the room. Light blazed, illuminating a huge, cavernous space hewn from the black rock of Eld. Veins of sel'dor ran through the rock, a natural damper for the magic released here. The room was a scientist's delight, a laboratory stocked with a vast array of implements and pharmacopoeia to aid in the High Mage's centuries-old quest for knowledge. In the center of the room a wide table, fitted with sel'dor-barbed restraining straps, was bolted to the floor.

So much had been tried. So much had been learned. Almost enough, but not quite.

A large sel'dor cage sat against the far wall. Within it, a naked man cringed at the sudden brightness of the room.

Beside the High Mage, Elfeya made a soft, quickly muffled sound. A sob. The Mage smiled with pride. Even after a thousand years, Elfeya still had the ability to weep. It was a testament to his careful handling of her, the great care he had taken with both his pets. So many other Mages had lost their captives to madness, broken them with frivolous torture, but Vadim Maur had yet again succeeded where others failed.

The man in the cage went still. His head came up, nostrils flaring. His leaf-green eyes were drawn to the woman. Elongated pupils narrowed to slits, then opened wide like a hunting cat's. His eyes glowed for the briefest of moments, a predictable flare of power that made him gasp when the sel'dor manacles piercing his wrists and ankles twisted the power into agonizing pain.

Elfeya cried out and flinched even as he did.

The man launched himself at the barbed bars of his cage. His fingers wrapped around them, heedless of the sharp, jagged metal slicing into his flesh. He shook the bars violently in a grip that still retained incredible strength even after so many centuries of imprisonment. Even though the bars were made of barbed sel'dor, if the man's wrists and ankles had not been sel'dor pierced-and deeply-nothing could have held him in the cage.

He bared his teeth. He howled his rage. He howled his desire.

The woman trembled.

Vadim Maur laughed. Really, they were endlessly entertaining. And so easy to control, once you knew the trick of it.

"Come here, my pet." The Mage held out a hand, and although Elfeya's golden eyes blazed hatred-that had not dimmed in the last thousand years either-she came to him. She didn't flinch as he put the razor-sharp sel'dor blade to her throat. The black jewel in the pommel of the dagger began to glow with subtle red lights. It had tasted her blood before.

"Take him to the table," the Mage commanded, and the two servants he'd brought with him moved reluctantly to the sel'dor cage and the mad creature within.

As they unlocked the cage door, the prisoner sprang towards them, only to stop abruptly with a harsh cry.

The sel'dor blade had sliced into the woman's throat, just deep enough to cause pain. The High Mage smiled as he watched her golden eyes beg the manacled prisoner for death, laughed as the prisoner gave her a tortured look from eyes that now held despairing sanity. Subdued without a hand or a hint of magic laid on him, the prisoner allowed himself to be led to the table, and the servants strapped him down.

The Mage could have restrained the man with any number of weaves, but this way was so much more satisfying.

When the man was cuffed to the table, Vadim ran a finger over Elfeya's wound to close it. He touched the sel'dor rings that pierced her ears. Ten rings in each ear, set with tiny bells so she never forgot they were there or who had pierced her. Matching belled manacles lined with sharp spurs to dig into her flesh circled her ankles, and masterfully crafted sel'dor bands of surprising delicacy and beauty clasped her upper arms with hundreds of deeply piercing teeth.

She was the only woman in his care ever to need such extensive binding. Her power was that great. But the strongest, most unbreakable bond Vadim used to control her was the man lying on the table.

Three burly servants and a small, ragged girl entered the room carrying a large basin, several buckets of hot water, soap, and a cloth. The servants lowered the basin to the floor and filled it with the buckets of water. The girl stood there, holding the soap and the cloth, her eyes lowered. She was dark-haired, no older than ten or eleven. There was something familiar about her, though the High Mage couldn't have said what it was.